Stopover
by SpikesLittleBit
Summary: A "bouncer" arrives in town on a stopover to Australia, and she sets the crew off-kilter, you'd have to read to find out, please R&R! May get a bit angsty, bu that's what I'm good at. Chapter 2 is UP!
1. Arrival

TITLE: Dead Like Me, "Stopover"

AUTHOR: SpikeslittleBit

RATING: PG-13 for language, but personally, I think it should be higher for that purpose, but I don't make the rules; nothing that wouldn't be on the show.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own DLM, it belongs to Showtime/MGM. I would normally add something about the show's creator and something to the effect of worshipping the proverbial ground he/she walks on, but seeing as I do not know who that is, I'll let it slide, and in the words of George, Whatever.

SUMMARY: A "bouncer" visit's the crew for a few days on a Stopover to Australia (I'll explain "bouncer in the storyline) and she throws things a little off kilter. George's POV obviously... if I tell too much, it'll give it away.

A/N: Season 2, obviously, in the midst of the Ray Summers/Daisy Arc. Meant to be an extra episode, maybe two.

**"Stopover"**

_Arrivals_

Ever notice just how many people roam around an airport? People leaving on business, perhaps a secret rendezvous; people coming home to welcome arms and tears from loved ones. But then again, there are some people who just hangout, think it's cool to watch the people walk on by. There are soldiers coming home from war, college students leaving for a high-priced education on the other side of the fucking planet, etc. and so forth.

So why the fuck am I here?

It was a weird morning. I got to Der Waffle Haus pretty early cause I actually woke up and was hungry. I thought, good, I might actually get a breakfast in my stomach before going into Happy Time, or before an early morning surprise reap. The latter I wasn't much looking forward to if that was the case.

As I was saying, I got to the diner early and much to my shock, not only was Rube sitting at our usual booth, but so was...

"Mason? You realize that it's 7:15. In the morning," I said sardonically as I slid into the booth next to Rube. "Did you even know there were hours in the day before 10 AM?"

"I couldn't sleep," he replied quietly. I gave him a quick once-over. God, he looked so thrashed, and not in the usual drunken Mason way, either. It was as if he had gone a couple rounds with a Mack-truck.

"You okay? You look like Death," I asked sincerely. I heard a snort next to me and looked over to see that wonderful trademark smirk of Rube's creep across his face as he was making out the post-its for the day. "No pun intended, thank you very much."

"I got a lot on my mind, Georgie-girl," Mason replied, "and I don't particularly feel like sharing." He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig as Kiffany approached us to take our order.

"What'll you have sweetie?" she asked me.

"Oh, just a Breakfast at Tiffany's with an Orange Juice, and give Rube the bacon."

As she walked away, Rube slapped a post-it on the table in front of Mason, and an oddly marked one in front of me. It said "Tommy, the Airport, arrival 12:45, Gate 25".

"Uh, since when do we get first names on post-its?" I asked curiously.

"Since it's not a reap, it's a pickup. Gotta bouncer flyin' in on a stopover," he replied.

"A whatter?"

"A bouncer," Mason chimed in. "A substitute reaper. They tend to fill in when a reaper is transferred."

I thought for a moment. We have temps? How weird is that? This whole reaper thing is getting to be more and more like corporate America every day. And that just sucks.

"So, they're like temps?"

"Sort of," Rube replied. "Now get up. I got business to attend to," he added as he grabbed the paper and headed for the restroom.

"Huh," I heard come outta Mason as he looked his post-it over. "Looks like I'm goin' with you, George. D. Trundle, Airport, 12:48 turnstiles."

All I could do is roll my eyes. Not that I dislike Mason, I just don't like goin' on reaps with him.

"Meet me at work at 11:30," I said forbearingly.

To my surprise, he was actually five minutes early. I had a hell of a time explaining Mason to Delores, as she eyed him suspiciously from her cube. Asking for an extended lunch wasn't all that great either.

"Well, at least you'll be coming back this time. Another doctor's appointment?" she asked.

"No, I have to pick up someone from the airport." At least that part was true. The only true excuse I ever had to give her. "My cousin, Tommy. He's visiting for a few days." Now that was a fucking full bald faced lie.

"Then who is that?" as she eyeballed Mason as he was spinning around on my chair at my desk.

"Mason? Oh he's my... I'm sponsoring him." That earned a raised eyebrow. "Oh, I guess I shouldn't tell you that, 'Anonymous' and all."

"Okay, gotcha," she said with an overly obvious wink. "Just get back as soon as you can, I gotta bit of work for you this afternoon. The holiday rush is coming up and I think we should get a head start."

"Sure thing, Delores," I said with a fake cheerful smile. I started to head out when she stopped me.

"I'm glad that you've decided to help someone out like that, Millie. It shows real compassion for others. I don't see that a lot from you," she said genuinely. Again, I flashed that sicky-sweet smile at her as I grabbed Mason by the arm and practically dragged him out of Happy Time.

We got to the airport shortly after and found seats at the gate to wait for our arrival. How weird is that, sounded like we were having a kid or something, Arrival. Mason held a hopeless sign that he made at my desk that had TOMMY scribbled drunkenly in pink highlighter. At least he was smart enough to not use the yellow one.

"So, what do you think this guy looks like?" I asked Mason, trying to make small talk and not sound as bored as I was.

"Probably pretty put together. Bouncers have to be highly responsible, or so I hear," he replied, as passengers began to deboard the plane. There were a few business men, but they passed us right on by.

"Why do they have to be, so responsible, I mean?"

"Cause they have assignments everywhere," he stated. "They're on call, like doctors."

"So are we," I interjected.

"Yeah, but not for the whole world," he replied.

Just then, this girl started to walk towards us. She was about my height, red hair, and a little too punk rock for my taste. She would have been perfect for Mason. She carried a ragged backpack that was littered with patches, and wore a white tank top, a purple plaid miniskirt, combat boots and a black silk blazer. I thought, nah, couldn't possibly. Tommy's a guy, has to be. Boy, was I in for a surprise.


	2. Meet Tommy

DISCLAIMER IS ON FIRST PAGE.

A/N: if you haven't seen Forget Me Not yet, hate to tell ya, there's a bit of a spoiler thru that ep. Also, this is going to be Alternate Universe (grr argh!) for that reason. I hate doing Alternate Universe, but the idea I got, I can't go along with the natural order of things according to the show thus far... stupid storylines. Sorry if I sound upset, but it pisses me off a little. I thought I had finally rid myself of this problem with the Jossverse, but it's coming back to haunt me in the DLM-verse.

Again, apologies all around, just needed to vent al little. Now on with the chapter!

**Stopover**

_Meet Tommy_

"Mason?!" the girl exclaimed as she approached us. What is it with everyone knowing everyone around here? Was there a fucking convention in town that I missed out on?

"Thomasina?" Mason asked. "Fucking Hell, has it been that long?"

"Twenty years at least! Gimme a hug, man!" she exclaimed, again, as she gave Mason a huge embrace and he twirled her around in the air. She must have no sense of smell. Most times I try not to let the dude sit near me at Der Waffle Haus. As he put her back down, she glanced over at me. Here we go, again.

"Oh, this is George," Mason drawled as he remembered that I was standing here.

"Ah yeah, toilet seat girl, right?" she asked with a strangely familiar smirk.

"I really wish people would quit calling me that. Hello! It's been a fucking year!"

"Hey, sorry Hun, the way you bite it gets stuck with you for a while. Give it a decade, people'll get over it. They finally quit asking Mase here if he had a hole in his head," she snickered. Huh. Maybe she's not too bad after all.

"Anywho, I'm Thomasina, Tommy for short. I guess your boss told you all about me."

"Not really," I retorted. "Maybe we should get your stuff so Mason can get his job done and we can go. I gotta get back to work."

As we walked to the baggage claim, all I heard was jabbering on and on about "back in the day." If I ever thought I would get tired of Daisy carrying on about her past, I guess I was sorely mistaken.

"He actually asked me if I was God, can you believe that?" she said to Mason as he brushed his hand down a well-dressed young businessman's arm.

"Really, I had an old naked guy with the largest-"

"Ahem!" I cleared my throat as loudly as I could, cutting him off. "I really don't think we need to talk about Mr. Matzo-Ball soup. I recently got my full appetite back from that one."

"Sorry, Georgie," he replied as sweetly as he could.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. It happened again. That weird smirk crept across Tommy's face again. I know I've seen it before, but I just can't place it for some odd reason. Maybe I'm just going crazy.

After Mason escorted the soul of Daniel Trundle to his lights, we amazingly ended up back at the diner. I figured, since I have an extended lunch hour today, and we got the airport out of the way fairly quickly, I could have a nice lunch. Why am I never fucking right?

"So, where you headed to this time?" Mason asked.

"Australia. Don't ask me why, I just go where I'm needed. I did have to make a stop in Indiana first, though."

"Really, what for?" I asked, curiously.

"Seems I got a stalker," she began. "I gotta tip from a friend that someone was trying to dig up some info on me, records and shit. They made off with a bunch of my stuff."

"What kind of stuff," I asked, "not that it's any of my business," I added quickly.

"Birth certificate, identification files, loads of stuff on my mom. You know, loads of information from when I was alive. Psycho even got a hold of my never-to-be-seen marriage license."

"You never told me you were married," Mason said.

"Never made it that far. I died two days before the wedding," she replied. "So, George, Mason tells me you recently had your first VIP," she added conspiratorially.

"Oh, it wasn't a big deal," I said monotone.

"God, it's such a rush isn't it?" she asked. "I remember my first VIP reap. Nancy."

"Who's Nancy?" I asked, confused as all hell. Mason, however, his jaw dropped and his eyes grew the size of the fucking table.

"You... reaped Nancy?!" he gasped. "I hate you now."

"Who the fuck is Nancy?" I asked again, a bit more impatient this time. They both looked at me, dumbfounded. Tommy looked to Mason for what seemed to be an explanation.

"She's kidding right?" she asked him. Mason just shook his head.

"Nancy. NAN-CY. As in Sid and Nancy?" he said. I just stared at him as if he had grown a third ear.

"They were notorious!" she exclaimed. "Anyway, everyone thinks that he killed her, nope!"

"He didn't?" Mason asked, apparently sober and extremely interested.

"He was holding the knife, they were having an argument, wrestling around, you know how those two were," nope, really fucking don't, "and they fell over and he was pointing the knife out and 'squish'. They were both so loaded that she didn't even realize what was going on. Complete... accident."

Kiffany then came up with our food, which I happily declined. My appetite was ruined once again. As she took my plate back, Daisy sauntered through the door and headed towards our table.

"Oh my god," Tommy let out, "Daisy Adair," she said with complete contempt in her voice.

"Thomasina," Daisy replied curtly. Both Mason and I looked at them as if we had missed something.

"Just to let you know, your replacement finally showed up. It took forever to clean up the mess you left in New York."

"Let's not speak of it, shall we?" Daisy interjected.

"What, the trail of gravelings you left too embarrassing for you to speak of?" Tommy asked in an exasperated tone. Wow, this girl was good. I was starting to like her more and more.

"Trail of gravelings?" I asked. I then caught Mason's eye. Something told me to shut up right then and there. "Oh, never mind. Listen, I gotta get back to work."

"What's your hurry, George?" a voice asked. Rube. Great, now maybe I could get my real post-it.

"I did as I was told; I would like my post-it so I can get back to my suck ass job, please?" I stated.

"Holy Shit!" Tommy said. "Well if it isn't Rube, the resident Rebel of Reaping himself. God, have I heard about you."

Daisy, Mason, and I all kind of looked at each other. Did our ears deceive us? Rube? A rebel?

"Tommy, darling, let me introduce you again," Mason said for all of us. "This is Rube, our leader. The most boring man on the face of the fucking planet."

She stared at Rube for a moment. And again with the smirking!

"Huh," she chuckled. "So I guess you never told them about the bank incident. Wow, I thought everyone knew about that."

"Georgia," Rube began calmly, through gritted teeth. "Why don't you show Tommy where she'll be staying. I'm sure she's had a long trip and would like to get settled."

"What about my post-it?" I asked. He opened his book and handed a post-it to me and one to Daisy.

"And mine?" Tommy asked him snidely. He removed a third post-it slowly from his day-book.

"I think you should show a bit more respect, next time, young lady," he said in his usual Rube tone.

"Listen, Pops, I only answer to two names, Tommy and Bitch. If you can't handle that, then I'm very sorry. Now can I have my fucking post-it," she said, and then added in a sicky-sweet tone, "please."

He handed her the post-it and she stood up in the booth, stepped over Mason, hopped down and sauntered towards the door, only looking back to see if I was behind her.


End file.
